


Raindrops on the Window Sill

by MTKiseki



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crying Victor Nikiforov, I have no idea why I even wrote this at 1AM, Introspection, Misunderstandings, Prompt Fic, Viktor with a K, no idea how this plays out too, not sure if it's even a happy ending, well I kind of do but I'm not writing this angst fest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2018-12-13 01:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11749155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MTKiseki/pseuds/MTKiseki
Summary: Prompt fic:...Viktor Nikiforov, the Living Legend, never knew heartbreak could be so shattering.It feels like walking on broken glass in a rainstorm.It feels like liquid fire burning him up from the inside out.It feels like the sun has died and plunged his world into eternal darkness.It feels as if his soul has be torn to shreds.It hurts, but he's so desperately and irrevocably in love that even with his entire world shattering into countless shards, he smiles....





	1. Chapter 1

Raindrops on the Window Sill

…

Fingers trail across the glass, the warmth breath of a sigh splashing onto its surface. For a moment, the world seems to freeze. That stillness resounds with his heart, to where it seems as if nothing matters more than this single truth.

That single moment shatters and with it, his heart.

 _Of course_.

How could he be such a fool? Who would ever love someone like him, someone who is never enough, someone who is never what society demanded.

His fingers clench the air before falling limp. Why did he try. What did he honestly expect.

His forehead falls to rest on the cool window glass. His gaze drifts to the splattering of raindrops decorating the window sill. The _pitter-patter_ of rain has died off by now, the sky ending its cries.

But even with his blurry vision, he can see drops of water bounce and coagulate on the window sill.

He blinks and realizes the coolness that decorates his lashes, the wetness clinging to his cheeks.

 _Oh_ , he thinks. _I'm crying._

He doesn't know what's worse.

The fact that he met the love of his life, or the fact that said love is forever unattainable.

A wavering smile makes its way onto his face.

He doesn't know. He realizes, however, that he can't live life without _him_.

Viktor Nikiforov, the Living Legend, never knew heartbreak could be so shattering.

It feels like walking on broken glass in a rainstorm.

It feels like liquid fire burning him up from the inside out.

It feels like the sun has died and plunged his world into eternal darkness.

It feels as if his soul has be torn to shreds.

It _hurts_ , but he's so desperately and irrevocably in love that even with his entire world shattering into countless shards, he smiles.

He smiles and hopes to every deity imaginable that he can make it through one more day. One more day in a never-ending string of _one more days_.

Because Katsuki Yuuri doesn't love him. Will probably never love him. The _thought_ of loving _him_ , _Viktor Nikiforov_ , has probably never crossed his mind.

His eyes close and remove the sight of raindrops and tears on the window sill.

Viktor Nikiforov has always known he was unlovable, forgettable in all the ways that matter.

He just never expected to travel thousands of miles, to drop everything for the only person he'll ever love, and end up with his heart in a million pieces.

Because Viktor Nikiforov once had long hair, once tried to be who he truly is, only to get crushed under regulations, expectations, and standards.

Because Viktor Nikiforov sometimes goes by _she_ or _they_.

Because Viktor Nikiforov has always longed for acceptance and love.

Because Viktor Nikiforov just had to fall in love with someone who has declared himself straight and _only_ straight.

* * *

 Brainstorm

...

My thoughts went like this when I was writing out the plot bunny that kept plaguing me at 1am in the morning.

What if Viktor continues to coach Yuuri while heartbroken? And the whole fic is the angstiest introspection piece ever

(I was in an angsty mood when I was typing this out, as you can tell)

I have no idea when this is set (could be at the very start of the season, sometime later...

huh, what if it happens post-Cup of China? As in, that actually _was_ a — ** _hug_** — )

and Yuuri is being teased by someone about it and he frantically responds with waving arms and desperation that it wasn't like that and that he's not into that kind of stuff

and Viktor hears

_cue heartbreak_

I mean, it could still have a happy ending

it could all just be a misunderstanding

like how Yuuri meant that he isn't into PDA of that grand a scale ( _//coughs, exhibition kink, //coughs_ )

or if it's not set post-CoC

and is set at the very beginning of the season...

Yuuri joking with Phichit over video and going 'no homo' as a joke? Viktor overhears...

or... Yuuri isn't out yet to his family and desperately tries to remain in the closet

so when he's teased about a crush on Viktor, he says he **_doesn't swing that way_** or something

_cue heartbreak_

Or maybe Yuuri originally thought he was straight, but he's actually bi?

So... yea

but Viktor definitely needs to be genderfluid imo

I mean, you see all these genderfluid!Yuuri fics

but rarely are there fics where Viktor's the one who sometimes feels like he doesn't fit in his own skin

and though the YoI team says that the universe is set where there is no homophobia

this one is a more realistic take?

I can definitely see Viktor growing up trying to express himself, and at first, he got away with it because he kept winning and bringing glory to the country

but then it got to the point where he's in his teens and it's _suspicious_ how he keeps on dressing so feminine and keeps his hair long and is the darling of Russia a _poof_? ...

It doesn't end well

Threats start pouring in from the extremists, the officials start pushing pressure on him

and Yakov does his best, but even he gets worried and has a talk with Viktor

**_*for his own safety*_ **

Viktor cuts his hair, rewrites himself completely

He closes himself off to the world.

It explains the drastic change to masculinity compared to his earlier skates

And it's now 2016 and the world became laxer about it

but Viktor has been hiding himself for nearly a decade now and it's not easy to let those barriers fall

he thought Yuuri might be the one to break them, but he instead fortifies the walls to a new high

Was the banquet all a fluke? Was it only him imagining the spark? the connection? the hope?

He guesses so...

_//rolls_

more angst?

I don't see this having a very quick ending either

It takes time to break down barriers and open someone up

Yuuri has his work cut out for him

or someone else, whoever you decide to be Viktor's confidant and lifeline

could actually be Yuri, tbh. I can see Viktor seeing Yuri head down the same path he did, but instead of coldness, Yuri uses rage...

so he takes the first step ( _progress!_ ) and reaches out to Yuri

and though it takes a while, Yuri realizes what Viktor is doing ( _cue fiery kitty becoming overprotective tiger over Viktor_ )

(this could actually happen even with Yuuri trying to break through Viktor’s walls… Yuri being the overprotective guardian who hates Yuuri even more because he realizes _who_ broke Viktor’s heart, _why_ , and _how_ )

pairing is up to you if you decide to use the prompt

anyways...

backstory for Viktor (if you want to make it even more depressing)

orphan/neglectful parents or relatives who aren't willing to pay for skating

I can see him scrabbling and saving together money to figure skate

He fell in love with the sport

but can't afford it

So he does his best to save money

choreographing his own routines, making his own costumes, taking the bare basics of dancing/ballet and then having to quit because he couldn't afford the cross-training, so he teaches himself from just watching others

it's by chance Yakov discovers him, dancing on worn skates at the ice rink after hours (maybe have Viktor strike a deal with the rink owners? do work around the place to allow him to practice there because he couldn't afford the hours?)

Yakov gains Viktor's guardianship and starts arranging for sponsors and stuff

but this was already a few years down the line

Viktor's been competing for a few years now

and is already paranoid about winning

because the prize money is the only thing keeping food on the table/allowing him to keep skating

a loss equals losing the sole love he has in the world

so he strives for technical perfection because he doesn't understand the emotions to make the performance more than superficial

and the habit never stops

I mean, he slowly starts becoming used to placing silver, but never below that

he can't afford to

a poor showing means he'll lose sponsors

he makes himself as marketable as possible, so when those threats about his femininity starts coming in, he caves

this poor sunshine child...


	2. Origins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young Viktor makes his way to the ice rink.

**_Origins_ **

He shuts his eyes tightly as the blustering wind blows past. Breathing out shakily, he grips the coin purse in his hand and used the other to pull open the door to the ice rink. Tiny ice crystals shatter when he rapidly blinks his eyes to adjust to the bright lighting. 

“Hello?” he calls out, a quiver vaguely noticeable in his voice.

“Little boy, what are you doing here?” A rough voice echoes from behind him, causing Viktor to jump in surprise.

Twisting his body around, he looks  _ up and up and up _ at a tall woman with gray-streaked black hair pulled into a loose bun.

“I-I wonder if, if I can skate? I can pay!” He is practically shouting at the end, his fingers clenching the coin purse even tighter. His knuckles whiten from the strength of his grip.

Cool blue eyes examine him for a moment before the woman silently points to a sign on the desk.

【  _ 350 rubles — Admission | 200 rubles — Hourly Rental Skates Rate  _ 】 

His heart drops upon seeing that. His gaze unconsciously falls to rest on his coin purse which, while pleasantly plump, contained mainly 10₽ coins. He has been saving his allowance for weeks—two coins every Sunday—but he only has just enough for admission.

He bites his bottom lip, desperately trying to  _ not cry _ because if he waits another ten weeks, he will be able to afford an hour of ice skating.

He bows his head and murmurs, “I...I don’t have enough for skates as well. I’m sorry for the trouble, Ma’am.”

His voice is  _ heartbreaking _ , all fragility and innocence.

At this point, a tear begins streaking down a fair cheekbone and plops onto the well-worn winter jacket of his.

The lady does nothing but watch; after all, this child could not pay. He looks taken care of as well, with clothes warm for the season and enough meat to his bones.  _ Although _ , her eyes soften slightly,  _ those cheeks are thin in a way that bordered gauntness _ —and the way his fingers shiver  _ gloveless _ tugs some remote part of her brain into alertness.

“Where are your parents, child.” Her deep voice growls, more masculine than it should be in all honesty. This woman had once been beautiful and young, but such advantages had led her astray before. Alcohol and smoking has ravaged her body, adding paunches to a body of grace. Nevertheless, this woman feels some connection to this little boy, a mirror of who she once was yet a reminder of how  _ cruel _ the world is.

“My-my uncle and aunt are at work. I just need to be home by supper, at six.” He speaks softly, catching the warning tone in the lady’s growl.

Her eyes flit to the clock in the corner before falling back to the crown of platinum. “Get me a note from your guardians then. No child under thirteen alone here at my rink without approval. Now  _ get _ .”

Turquoise eyes—an ever-shifting blue-green—stare at her blankly. “But, I can’t pay for the skates,” he states, his voice downtrodden.

“Did I say you need to pay?” she bites out, ire rising. “Get that note, then we’ll talk.” She watches as the tiny boy scrambles out of her rink, the bell  _ dinging _ behind him. He gets swallowed up by the chilly wind and snow, a small dot in the horizon before he turns a corner and disappears. She rolls her neck and inwardly curses her soft heart. She cannot even hire the child because he is, at best, nine years too young. It is not like the rink even has tasks for a child his age to do.

She will have to think of something, but  _ what _ is the question. She does not want to be the reason a child lost his innocence, his dream, his hope. That had happened to her, one misfortunate night, and though she escaped with her life, she lost  _ everything _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aiya...this work is only continuing because of you, krrizis.  
> Random snippets coming your way about what might have happened if I wrote out this entire plot bunny.


	3. A Dream or Nightmare?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes your mind is your worst enemy.

**_A Dream or Nightmare?_ **

He stirs to a hand caressing his hair. Fingertips lightly trace the curve of his nose to brush up his cheekbones, pulling errant strands of platinum back behind his ear.

Eyelashes flutter, slightly skimming against fair skin, and dazed turquoise eyes blearily peer out. Cinnamon-brown eyes gaze back.

A stray thought flits through Viktor’s mind, but it disappears before his sleepy brain can make sense of it.

A heartwarming smile breaks across his face, a hand reaching up to tug at raven-black strands of hair.

“Yu-uri,” he mumbles, his hands grasping black strands even tighter to pull his love into a kiss.

 _Warmth_.

His mouth opens, allowing the brunette to dive right in and simply _claim_ what is already his.

A swipe across his inner cheek…

A languid exploration of tongue…

A falling sensation, as if he could simply stay like this _forever…_

His eyes only see darkness, falling closed to simply _be_ in the moment.

The fuzziness in his mind creep further into his thoughts.

All of his energy is simply _gone_ , sucked away by the one who pulls at his heartstrings with the ease of a pianist.

And so...he falls.

Falls back into the soft comforter and silk sheets.

Falls back into crumpled pillows.

Falls beneath a toned body that captures him into a tight embrace.

Falls into what _must_ be his heaven and hell all wrapped in one.

Because—

He _needs more_.

Yet what he now has is _perfect_ and to _break it_ is **simply unthinkable**.

Long legs fall open to the side, bending at the knees.

A tingling sensation courses through his body, yet he cannot discern where it originates or how to stop it. It sets him on a live wire, a trigger away from exploding because he _wants so much_.

He feels silk brush down his body, as the offending sheet reveals him to the world in all his glory.

 _Oh_ , he had forgotten it was there.

Silk pools at his waist, a rumpled weight that will take far too much energy to overcome because, at this moment, he has none.

And then—all of it disappears.

He blinks, catching sight of an amused face as Yuuri sits back on his heels. He calmly kneels between Viktor’s legs, as if he belongs nowhere else. Tilting his head to the side, Yuuri shadows half his face with his messy black hair, but the glint in those darkened eyes remain clearly visible.

Viktor parts his lips to speak, but a quick shake of Yuuri’s head silences him.

_“Let me, Vitya.”_

The diminutive of his name from his love's mouth is, perhaps, his undoing.

His head drops back onto the pillow, though it remains inclined enough to watch his love slip out of a pale blue nightshirt.

His mouth dries at the sight, and though he has seen this many times before, it is always riveting how so much is hidden by cloth.

Plains of chiseled muscle, the sun-kissed skin just begging to be touched.

A trail of black curls leading into a V, so tempting to follow with his fingers.

His whole body _aches_ to just reach out and explore this _feast_ before him, but...he cannot.

Those dark eyes chain him to the bed, forbidding him from moving.

Viktor wants to whimper, but even his voice has left him.

In this room, only his light, fluttery breaths echo throughout. Yuuri is still just _sitting there,_ **_watching him fall apart in anticipation_**.

His eyes zero in on the hand _ever so slowly_ reaching out to lift his own, the fingers perhaps not as long but just as strong if not more so.

Just one finger, _just one_ , brings his hand up to brush against those lips that were just on his. An index finger lifting up his right pinky finger and carrying it closer, so the tip of his ring finger rests at the parting of those slightly quirked lips.

The sight sends a shiver down his spine.

Yuuri withdraws his hand, leaving Viktor’s hand where it is.

Now, Viktor’s finger exerts a slight pressure on his lower lip, resting there because Viktor _knows_ , after many trials and errors, to _let Yuuri take care of everything_.

The slight loosening of a jaw, a flick of a tongue, lips closing around and sucking on that singular digit, teasing, fluttering, swiping, tonguing…

His hand suddenly falls with a _thud_ onto his bare chest, stealing away Viktor’s breath.

Inadvertently, a plea escapes despite Viktor’s better judgment. “...Please…”

A smirk.

His downfall.

A hand trails down the side of his face—from his temple, down his jaw, brushing down his neck and circling his Adam’s apple to pause at the hollow of his throat.

A finger presses lightly down.

 _Viktor cannot breathe_.

Everything stills.

For just that moment, blown turquoise eyes stare into an abyss of cinnamon-brown.

…

~~_It is alluring, this darkness. Come closer, little starling, it seems to say. Come further into my abyss. I offer you everything and more. Love, devotion, acceptance. Take my hand, little starling, take it. I’ll be yours forevermore._ ~~

...

Everything rushes back into motion, and he is gasping for air as the fingers trail down further.

Circling hardened and sensitive nipples for but a moment and then completely ignoring it after, the fingers decide the valleys of Viktor’s abdominal hold higher importance. Nails lightly graze his skin, pebbling the flesh and leaving a blazing trail of fire behind.

The fingers follow a circuitous path, drawing flowing patterns on his skin only to suddenly flick up and land someplace else.

 _Yet never divesting from its rest the silk sheet pooling at his waist_.

Viktor internally swears, because one touch is all he needs to _crumble_ at this rate.

 _And now they’re tapping_ . He wants to groan because why must Yuuri be such a _tease_.

_Ton._

『とん』

_Ton._

『とん』

_Tonton._

『とんとん』

_Ton._

『とん』

_Tontonton._

『とんとんとん』

_Konkonkonkonkon._

_『こんこんこんこんこん』_

...

“Vicchan!” A _female_ voice calls out.

“Mhnngh?” Viktor strangles out, his eyes flying open to the sight of _nothing but the light-brown ceiling._

“ _Okiru!_ ” 「Wake up!」   

“Hai,” he manages to call out with a raspy voice. He listens as the sound of footsteps fade away.

Once he can no longer hear it, he— **_crumbles_**.

Sobs rack his body, tears falling as steadily as rain down his cheeks to splash against the blanket.

 _It was just a dream. It was just a_ **_fucking dream_**.

He does not know what is worse, being able to visualize such scenes so vividly—or doing so and knowing it will never happen.

 _It’s not a dream,_ he bitterly thinks to himself. _It’s a nightmare._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha... *slowly dies from writing this*  
> My muse kept going back and forth like, this could play out in so many ways  
> and *where* does this stop??? like, aiya...

**Author's Note:**

> So... have at it?  
> if you plan to pick up this prompt, leave a comment or PM me so I can link to it~


End file.
